


Ink on Your Fingers, Ink on My Skin

by Layne Faire (HisDarlin)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pain Kink, Tattoos, Wankfest 2020, cause there's nothing meet-cute about this, does anything else really matter?, is that even a tag?, meet-sexy, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisDarlin/pseuds/Layne%20Faire
Summary: Liam gets tattoos for the thrill of it.Written for Wankfest 2020
Comments: 33
Kudos: 72
Collections: WANKFEST 2020





	Ink on Your Fingers, Ink on My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely porn without plot, banged out (ha!, pun intended) in between long work shifts and very little sleep over the past couple days. It's not my fault Liam's tattooed, naked torso and Zayn's graceful fingers are the stuff dreams are made of.
> 
> Much love and appreciation to [femstyles](https://femstyles.tumblr.com/) for coming through with a moodboard in a clutch for me!!

[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/86350706-cc49-4dd2-a821-91b462d667d5)

“Whatcha watching there, Payno?” Tommo peeked over his shoulder to stare at the video playing on the screen. 

Oh, uhmmm-” Liam fumbled his phone in his haste to turn it off. “It’s uhm - it’s nothing. Just some artist I stumbled across on Instagram. His stuff’s pretty amazing.” 

“Right. The art. Sure it doesn’t have anything to do with him being right fit?” 

Liam ducked his head, a blush suffusing his cheeks. “So, are you ready for me?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Tommo stared at him appraisingly, then let it go. 

“Yeah, the table awaits. Let’s get you inked up.” 

Three hours later, Tommo sat back, swiping a clean towel over the reddened skin while he assessed the finished tattoo - a coat of arms bearing a rearing lion on Liam’s bicep. 

Half dazed, still buzzing from the sting of the needle and the thrill the pain gave him, Liam twisted his arm, trying to get a better view. “How’s it look?” 

“Fucking sick, of course.” Tommo gestured to the mirrored wall next to his station. “Go have a look.” 

Liam braced his hand on the table and pushed himself up, dropping to his feet in a move that earned a quirked eyebrow from Tommo. 

“Impressive, mate. Surprised you're still single with all-” He eyed Liam up and down, a smirk curling his lips, “-of that.”

Liam ignored his friend and stood in front of the mirror. Turning his arm, he admired Tommo’s handiwork, nodding approvingly. Surreptitiously, he pressed on the front of his jeans, grateful he’d opted for them over a pair of joggers that would have really given everyone an eyeful. He stifled a moan. _Later._

“Yeah, it is sick.” He turned back to Tommo and fistbumped his raised hand. “Thanks, man. 

“So - tell me about this artist? Looking to replace me?” 

“Nah, it’s not-” Liam colored again, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. 

“Oh ho! So it's like that!” Tommo cackled. “Bro, you’re redder than Oli’s hair.” 

Oi! Enough of that!” Oli looked up from the tattoo he was busy filling in and flipped Tommo off. “Who’s the artist, Leemo? Do we know him?” 

“Dunno, mate.” Liam glanced over at Oli while Tommo wrapped his arm. “His Insta is InZaynity. He’s proper talented. You should check it out.” 

Oli glanced between Liam and Tommo, a puzzled frown on his face. “InZaynity? Isn’t that-”

“Don’t forget about your after care,” Louis interjected, drawing Liam’s attention back to him. “If you have any problems, give me a shout.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Liam adjusted his sleeve to keep it from pressing on the fresh ink. “What do I owe you?” 

“Two fifty after the deposit. Lottie’ll take care of it out front.” 

Tommo herded him toward the door, shooting a silencing glance at Oli on his way past. Liam shrugged. The man was too weird for words under the best of circumstances, and Liam's sole focus was getting home before the heady pain rush from his tattoo wore off. 

* * *

The tube ride home was delicious torture. The jostling of the train, whilst pinned against a pole in the evening crush of people left him in a cold sweat of desperation. His arm had been bumped several times by departing passengers, the stinging pain an electrical current straight to his cock. Reaching his stop, he’d stumbled out onto the platform, sucking in a gasping breath of fresh air to steady himself for the five block walk to his flat. Each step he took shifted the abrasive denim across his crotch, the seam twisting and digging into his engorged shaft. He bit his lip, the thrum of his blood rushing through his body, humming in his ears. Staggering through the door of his flat, he slammed the door behind himself, his fingers already fumbling with the button at his waist. 

Liam had his cock in hand before he reached his bedroom, his fist tight around the base, pre-come bubbling at the tip. He squeezed, then released himself to strip out of his jeans and pants to allow himself more access to his body. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he leaned back on one hand, the other taking slow methodical strokes along his shaft. The bruised skin of his bicep stung at the pulling stretch of the muscles flexing with each pull of his hand. He closed his eyes, a familiar image already, waiting for him like an impatient lover. The long, lithe, ink-stained fingers of his artist reached for him. 

The first time Liam fantasized about the artist touching him, he’d been almost embarrassed when he came with a shout after only a few brief flashing images behind his eyes. In the weeks since, he’d devoured every video on InZaynity’s Instagram, studying the way his hands moved, memorizing the sound of his voice, cataloguing the inflections in his tone when something excited him. Liam had indulged his obsession, excusing it with the certain knowledge that he’d never meet the other man. His posts were geotagged in Bradford, over 200 miles away from Liam’s Vauxhall flat. It allowed him to fully flesh out his fantasy and immerse himself in it without feeling any lingering guilt. 

Stroking his hand over the crown of his cock, Liam used the pre-come to ease the slide of his fingers, the foreskin dragging back as he stroked down to the base again. Tightening his grip, he twisted his wrist, fingers pressing into the thick vein on the underside. He bucked into his hand, pushing through the tight ring of his fingers. 

Liam stilled his hips and stretched out on the bed, the wrappings on his arm tightening, digging into the fresh tattoo. Blindly, he opened the night table drawer to remove a bottle of lube. He drizzled the viscous liquid over his fingers, then set it aside, using both hands to slick his cock. He bent his knee, letting it fall to the side, giving him better access to pleasure himself. With light teasing touches, he fondled his balls, the other hand still twisting and caressing his shaft with firm, languid strokes. With his eyes closed, he could imagine the voice whispering in his ear, guiding his hands. 

_… use a firm grasp..._

_...make short quick strokes…_

_...glide slowly , feel it out with your fingers…_

_...pull away from your body…_

_...press down hard…_

_...with a twist of your wrist…_

Liam’s muscles bunched, tension zipping along his spine, his hand stripping his shaft with rapid, irregular strokes. Bracing his feet against the mattress, he pistoned his hips, thrusting into his tightening grip as he chased the burning need for release that consumed him. He arched into his fist, the tendons in his neck cording as he shoved his head back into the pillows. A litany of guttural curses fell from his lips, erupting into a shout as his orgasm drove through him. His body shook, ribbons of come coating his hands and stomach. Collapsing into the enveloping softness of his bed, Liam lay there panting, his pulse racing, while tremorous aftershocks rocked his body. The voice faded away, leaving Liam alone - exhausted - sated. 

* * *

Liam opened the door of the shop, a bell jingling merrily to announce his entrance. A blonde woman leaned on the counter, idly flipping through a magazine, She glanced up when he walked in, a bright smile wiping away her bored expression.

“Hey Lots! Your brother around?” 

Lottie flicked her blonde hair back over her shoulder, husting around the counter to give him a quick hug. “For you? Probably. He’s helping the new artist get set up. Want me to pop back and see if he’s going to be much longer?” 

“A new artist? Nice.” Liam nodded, impressed. “I’ve got a quick question, if he’s got time? I can wait, if you don’t mind my company.” 

“Never! You’re always a welcome face.” Lottie squeezed his hand. “I’ll let him know you’re out here.” 

She walked away, and Liam strolled around the studio, checking out the new flash sheets hanging on the walls. Something about the art felt familiar. It wasn’t Tommo’s usual style, and Liam assumed it was from the new artist. Hearing his friend’s voice behind him, He whirled around, offering a broad smile.

“More ink already, mate? It's only been a week since the last one. It can’t even be properly healed yet.” Tommo wandered around the counter, the black vest he wore revealing countless pieces of art decorating his skin. “How’s it doing, then? Let’s have a look.” 

Liam rolled up the sleeve on his t-shirt, turning his arm so Tommo could take a closer look at the coat of arms.. Tommo leaned in closely, his fingers dancing delicately over the healing skin. Liam flinched at the sensation.

“Looks good. Looks good.” Tommo stepped back and cracked his knuckles. “So whatcha looking for? Gonna add on to that sleeve, or are we starting the other arm? Let me grab my sketchbook and- ”

“Well, I kind of have something in mind. You know that artist I was watching?” Liam rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his expression turning sheepish. “I saw something on his insta I kinda liked for my hand. His messages are locked, though, and I have no way to contact him.”

Tommo winced. “That’s a tricky business, mate. I can’t be stealing someone else’s art. Wouldn’t be good for business, you know?” 

“Yeah, no. I get it.” Liam fiddled with his phone. “I figured it was a long shot.” 

“Now, hold on there, Payno. I said it was tricky, not impossible. There might be a way to do this and keep it all legit.” 

Liam looked up. “Really?” 

“Really. Give me a sec-” Tommo turned to Lottie, who’d returned to the counter and her magazine. “Can you ask Zee to step out here right quick?” 

“Zee?” 

“Yeah. He’s a new artist I just rented a station. Hella fucking talented. He’s got good hands, a soft touch with a needle.” 

Whatcha need, Tommo?” 

_That voice! It couldn't be!_ Liam blanched. Turning slowly, he found himself face to face with his obsession, who was giving him an admiring once over. 

“Zee! This is me best mate, Liam. He’s a huge fan of your art.” Louis introduced them, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Payno, I believe you’re already familiar with Zayn’s instagram?”

Wordlessly, Liam nodded, his heart lodged in his throat. 

Louis nudged Zayn's shoulder. “He’s interested in getting one of your designs done.” 

Zee - _Zayn_ \- extended his hand, ink-stained fingers wrapping around Liam’s, leaving a smudge when he let go. “Great, can’t wait to get my hands on you.” 

Liam stared at the ink smear, a shiver of anticipation running through him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read my flight of fancy. If you enjoyed this story, please, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated.  
> You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about this story and its characters. I love to talk about my writing, and I promise I don't bite - I mean, unless that's what you're in to. But that's a whole 'nother type of fic!


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